Osler's Razor

Here in Michigan, it began snowing while I was in church last night. Big flakes at first, a few, and then a cascade. I walked out with a lot of other Oslers into a white world, hushed and quiet.

Every Christmas is different, but at some point every year I have the same thought, and it transforms me like that snow does the landscape-- it hushes me and slows everything down. That thought is this: That this is the day we recognize that moment when God most directly connected with he his people, by putting his own son among us.

Everything about it was unexpected. He wasn't born rich. He wasn't born to the ruling people, the Romans. He wasn't born to a particularly religious family, in the sense of status within the church. His parents, from all that the world could see, weren't even married. He wasn't born in a comfortable place, and his life was immediately imperiled by the edict of Herod. A great thing happened, and there was no parade, no party.

All of it, every bit, teaches humility, like so much of the Christian story. That may be the greatest gift of Christmas, at least for me: The realization that all of this, all of the comforts and privileges, are grace. They aren't earned, aren't deserved, unless somehow I deserve more than God's own son.

There is great peace in that. I am happy to have it fall like the snow today.